


Dinner Conversation

by small_secret



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Food Kink, Hands, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-21
Updated: 2013-04-21
Packaged: 2017-12-09 01:32:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/768422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/small_secret/pseuds/small_secret
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>French Cuisine. A conversation about female serial killers. Dr. Lector  is -rude-.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dinner Conversation

Will wonders if he surprises the Doctor ~~Hannibal~~ by pronouncing Viognier in an accent that’s not quite French -- not the typical French accent. Far too rough, far too distant and separated by centuries and cultures. An idle thought with too idle conversation. The good doctor pauses for a moment, sharp eyes raking Will's form, if only a moment before he continues, “I’m _not_ entirely surprised you haven’t heard of Elizabeth Ridgway.” Doctor Lecter dips his spoon into the creme caramel; a simple enough desert to make and rich. “Americans have a fixation that serial killing began in the States. If charitable they _pherhaps_ note the Ripper murders in England.”  
  
There’s a pause as Will thinks. History of Forensic science wasn’t a weak point for him, though it only went so far on the history of the _study_ and not the history of the deeds they seek to catch. Really, they're only two centuries from blame of devils and demons. Will speculates that it would go too far, go too long, and he wouldn’t have been able to manage if there was a history on the act of _murder_ itself. Empathy extends to text, notably biographies and historical text - not quite as _acute_ because there's so much between he on the words on the page and the deeds done past, but there's enough to cause restless nights.  
  
Then will takes a bite of the creme and focuses on the cool of the metal spoon, the sweet over his tongue, and eyes the doctor savoring his own meal. And on the doctor's ~~Hannibal's~~ lips. Just for a few moments. They're not so much full but _defined_. Every inch of Doctor Lector ~~Hannibal~~ is sharp. Immutable, too. But somehow, it doesn't bother Will. Not tonight.  
  
Finally, Will looks away to answer, “Yeah, I mean, I _know_ the history goes longer than America. 14th century, possibly longer, if you don’t count the royals who got away with it. It’s just hard for me - _personally_ \- to think of female serial killers.”  
  
“ _Oh_. Now why would that be, William?” The question is curious and personal -- it's not quite one of Doctor Lector's ~~Hannibal's~~ inquiries. Will can feel the doctor’s eyes on him but Will refuses to look up.  
  
Instead, he spoons up another bite of desert, metal and porcelain clacking. The soup and main course had been savory, all rich and all prepared by Doctor Lecter ~~Hannibal~~. _Bouillabaisse_. Scallops _Provencal_ , lemon green beans, and baked garlic-and-rice pilaf. Lemon sherbet between dinner and desert to palette. After all, the flavors of are so contrasting. Still, the sweet is shocking on his tongue. “They don’t… ” The spoon drags against the plate for a moment, his wrist accidentally touching the rim of the dish. “Female serial killers for the most part are _pragmatic_ contrast for the stuff Crawford calls me in for. I can tell when it’s a he or a she. When women do it -” He hears Doctor Lecter reach out, “- they usually do it for -“  
  
Will stares at the hand holding his wrist. Doctor Lector's - _Hannibal's_ hands are graceful with long digits and nails manicured, their grip is wiry and strong, warm and dry. Thumb strokes over the inside of Will's palm as Hannibal bows his head and draws Will's hand up. There's a cold thrill in watching the red lips part that turns into _hot_ when the tip of Hannibal's tongue grazes over his wrist and Will faintly realizes there was something on his skin. The caramel perhaps?   
  
He almost _loses_ that thought as the warm tongue runs over the fleshy pad of his thumb and Hannibal's teeth bite _gently_ on the finger. The pressure of Hannibal's teeth increases along with a sudden _throb_ down Will's spine and directly to his-  
  
Will's eyes meet the doctor's and sees the heat and the _hunger_. Then Hannibal's tongue teases Will's finger tip once more before the bite relaxes and hand falls away. Will draws his hand back, and his eyes go to the saliva left on his hand. "What was _that_ for?" A stupid question.   
  
He can hear the doctor’s voice is a near smile, “You had caramel on your wrist and I’m afraid I’ve something of a sweet tooth, I should hate it to go to waste. Though,” The pause hangs in the air, “That was _considerably_ rude of me to interrupt, though it was _never_ my intention. _Please_ ," It sounds _nothing_ like an apology, "Do go on, William.”  
  
Will swallows as he searches for the thread of the conversation and in a shaken voice, he _continues_.

 

 


End file.
